Elphaba818:

This is undoubtedly our shortest chapter yet, but for once, I can hardly think about today's chapter at all. I woke up this morning to unbelievable news: I've been accepted into the Disney College Program! I can't believe it! I've had so much bad luck lately when it comes to amazing opportunities like this that I honestly thought I was wasting my time when applying, BUT I GOT IN! I am so, so excited! I can't wait to be part of this incredible, once in a lifetime opportunity! This is definitely going to help me get my foot in the door for one day working for Disney in other areas such as in their animation studios!

Now, onto today's chapter. Like I said, today's update is very short, but at least that means we can get started on the next one all that sooner, lol! Now that the two major battle scenes of Season 5 are done, there's just a few loose ends to tie up in Season 5 before we can officially move on to Season 6. So stay tuned, dear readers! Your patience will soon be rewarded! I promise! ;D

One last thing I want to report before I wrap this up and pass the mic to Longclaw. I am pleased to report that I have completed two separate digital paintings of Lyaella of her just wearing her blue dress at the beginning of the story as well as a version of her wearing that along with her gray wool cloak with white fur trimming! I've been working on these two paintings for months now because I'm not the best when it comes to digital painting and there's still so much I needed to learn to get them both looking right, and I'm so happy to have finally finished both versions of her! To see both images of Lyaella, please visit my DeviantArt account! I'd include a direct link to it down below, but sadly, FanFiction isn't allowing me to copy and paste the web url to it here in the author's note. So instead, please visit DeviantArt and search for the username Totoro939. The two newest deviations on my home page will be of Lyaella both wearing and not wearing her gray cloak!

I intend to make a digital painting of Torrhen both wearing and not wearing his own gray cloak in his first blue outfit in the beginning of the story next. Since I've finally managed to get the hang of digital painting, hopefully I'll be able to finish his painting a lot faster than I finished Lyaella's. And depending on how long it takes me to work on his painting, I might make paintings of Shadow and Sōnar next, or even work on an official book cover for the story. Decisions, decisions, decisions, lol! ^_^

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy today's chapter! Please leave a nice review when you're done! :D

Happy Reading!

- Elphaba818

Longclaw 1-6:

Hey guys! With the anniversary of the garbage, as bad as the Turner Diaries final episode of GoT (seriously, fuck D&D) upon us, we gotta flood the internet with detoxification and here we are. The thrilling conclusion to the Fighting Pits.

Be sure to check out my new stories: Bet of Dragons and Dragonshield! :)

Chapter Twenty-One: Blood of my Blood

'Been a king's man since I was a boy. I mean to die a king's man.'

His father made sure he knew those famous words from the cradle of his youth. The words of Dick Bean, man-at-arms for Maegor Targaryen during the first near twilight of House Targaryen. When no knight of Westeros — the supposed brave, loyal highborns — would step up to answer their King's call to fight in a Trial of Seven, the lowborn man-at-arms answered the call and shamed five knights into finally joining.

All had died, but their King triumphed. A hero that he himself was molded to emulate.

The man's family had been just like Dick Bean. In the service of House Targaryen since the beginning when Aegon the Conqueror landed at Blackwater Rush. They had served Maegor and Jaehaerys, obeyed King Viserys' directive naming Rhaenyra as the heir during the Dance, marched into Dorne and against the Blackfyres… so strong was their loyalty that they left Westeros rather than submit to the Stag Oaf that usurped the crown.

His father, heartbroken at the loss of their Kings, died many years ago. The son, only ten namedays when Aerys was killed, took up the mantle… but what was he to do? Hopeless, dejected, he did what all men trained to fight but stateless did… joined a sellsword company.

But not just any. No. He belonged to the greatest of them all. The Golden Company.

Beneath the gold, the bittersteel. Ironic, belonging to a group founded by one of the greatest traitors. But Bittersteel had Targaryen blood, while the usurper bastards ruling in King's Landing had none. Not a hard choice for him.

Nor was it a hard choice to be here within the stands of the great Fighting Pits of Meereen. How could it be, when the last dragon sat barely a hundred feet away from him? Even from this distance, she was a goddess with pure silver hair and the demeanor of a Queen. Like his father's stories of Rhaenys and Visenya of old, there was no doubt in his mind why she had awakened the dragons from stone and restored her House's might.

The clashes below in the pit drew loud cheers and whoops from the mixed crowd of former masters and freedmen, but the man cared little. He wasn't here for that… only for her. Gods, the arguments with his Serjeants, his Captains over what course the Golden Company should take — whether they were just another sellsword company or something greather. Something as they were founded by. Many were foreigners hired to fight as Essosi would, but others were those that had created it, exiles and loyalists that simply wanted to return home.

He was among the latter, and the call of marching to Westeros under the dragon banner called to him. Finally called in some form to his commanders. 'There is a new dragon,' His eyes widened as the information was relayed to him. 'A bastard in the court of the Dragon Queen Daenerys Targaryen, claiming to have the dragonsblood. Perhaps a Blackfyre, perhaps not, but we may have someone to follow after so long in the wilderness.' Captain Strickland gave him the task next. 'Go, find the lad in the custody of the Dragon Queen and see if he's worth following. Not through stories, merely through observation. Too many lies and untruths spread by those interested in their own power.'

The words of Captain Strickland filled his mind on the journey to Meereen. His mind had been made up from the beginning, but in his observations the man knew that the Golden Company should ally with Daenerys Targaryen and the new Targaryen. It was fate. It was preordained.

The wrongs of the past decades would finally be corrected.

And then the fighting pits erupted into the Seven Hells.

Paying closer attention than most, he watched as the bastard charged to stop the Harpy… and that the Queen's guards didn't notice it and thought the bastard was the enemy. Fools… But the one Harpy was but one of many. Traitors… scum… those that didn't deserve to touch the ground Daenerys Targaryen walked on.

He should've tried to flee, but the anger and rage of his father before him boiled over. Grabbing a short sword from beneath his cloak, the proud warrior plunged it into the back of a Harpy close to him, the man assaulting a freedman woman.

The man could do his part to protect his Queen and the Prince… even if he died trying.

It had happened so fast, it was already over. So fast he hadn't even fully absorbed what was happening. But it was over now. It was over because of him…

There was silence. There was chaos…

It was quiet. It was noisy…

He couldn't hear anything. He could hear everything…

Torrhen was white as his snow surname as the one-handed Harpy's eyes glazed over. He sunk lifelessly to the ground, the blade still wedged in his stomach. His sword arm was dragged down in relation, but Torrhen hardly noticed. His eyes were bulging as the corpse fell away, sprawled out like a puppet with its strings cut. Except puppets didn't have great pools of blood flowing out of them if they were stabbed in the gut. Nor did blood come gushing out of them if someone chopped off their hands.

His future mother had leapt out of her seat in shock, but he didn't turn to her. Nor did he glance around as Daario lowered his arakh and whirled around, gazing out at the stands in horror. All across the stadium, men in gold masks were revealing themselves in the crowd, drawing out daggers and swords hidden in their clothes to stab and slash away at whoever they could grab. It didn't matter if someone was a freedman or noble, they killed them all without a second thought. People screamed in terror as they tried to flee, but it was no use. The arena was so packed with people it was impossible to navigate clearly, especially in all the panic. This was bigger than a sneak attack on House Targaryen. It was a bloodbath for everyone in Meereen.

From the corner of his eye, he was vaguely aware of his mentor leaping to attention. "Protect our queen!" Ser Barristan shouted, whipping out his own sword. "At the ready, men! Torrhen, get behind me!"

But Torrhen didn't move. He'd heard the knight shout, but the words themselves were lost. The boy just kept staring at the dead Harpy before him, oblivious to everything else. His sword was still lodged in the man's gut, his hand numbly grasping the hilt.

"Torrhen!"

His throat bobbed. It took all his willpower to tug his sword free. More blood started flowing as soon as it was removed, and Torrhen felt his mouth go dry. Ser Barristan had determined the other day after a sparring session that he believed him to be ready to start carrying a real sword when in public out during official outings as his squire. Considering he now knew the truth as to who he really was, he explained that doing so was merely as a precaution, as he wanted him to be able to defend himself if he was ever in a situation like during the riot on the streets again. Even though he wasn't officially a Targaryen, he was still his mother's future son and Rhaegar's grandson, so he wanted him to be able to protect himself.

But what he'd just done was not self-defense. It'd been done by pure instinct and anger.

He'd been annoyed with Daenerys right before it happened. Not to the extent of nearly yelling and possibly enduring another fire flicker, but he'd definitely been aggravated. Why was it so hard for his future mother to understand his point? It wasn't like he enjoyed arguing with her all the time, but no one else was trying to make her see the long term consequences of her actions in Meereen that will affect her when she arrives in Westeros. That she wouldn't listen when he pointed them out infuriated him. Still, Torrhen didn't want to succumb to another fire flicker or thrashing spell like everyone claimed he'd endured before. He'd purposefully shut up after his cutting remark and let his eyes wander away from the queen and the match to try calming down on his own.

That's when he saw it. While everyone had been focusing on Ser Jorah as he won the match and trial-by-combat, Torrhen spied the Harpy slowly creeping up behind them with a long dagger. He'd been alarmed and was about to shout in warning, but then he realized just who the golden masked eyes were focusing on in particular — the queen herself. His future mother.

He'd reacted without thinking. Forgetting everything else, he whipped out his blade, slashed off the hand with the dagger, and then thrusted it straight into the Harpies gut.

Now, though? Now, he couldn't think. Couldn't speak. Couldn't process what he'd just done. He'd killed him.

"Torrhen…" the voice seemed faint, distant.

He'd killed him… In cold blood.

"Torrhen!" Louder this time.

He was a murderer…

Suddenly, Barristan was in front of him, shaking Torrhen out of his reverie. "We need to move now!"

"I'm a murderer…"

"None of that! We can't waste time!" An Unsullied moved in battle formation, but a javelin slammed into his back, splattering both the older knight and Torrhen in bright red blood. The coppery smell and slimy feel finally kicked Torrhen's fight or flight instincts back into gear and he gripped his sword, following Ser Barristan.

Already it was chaos… bloody chaos. What had to be hundreds of Harpies were flooding the fighting pit and slaughtering everyone in their path. Freedmen, freeborn, former masters… only those that wore the mask were immune from these noblemen's sons, fueled with a thirst for blood and zealotry for the old ways of Slaver's Bay. The Unsullied, rushing into the gap, were out of formation and thus swarmed and torn apart by blade and club.

They're soldiers, not warriors… Torrhen couldn't help making the mental note. Daario though, for all of his being an asshole, he fought like a demon. Cutting down Harpy after Harpy that charged his mother.

"Khaleesi!" Jorah called from the pit. "Come here!"

"You crazy?" Barristan blocked an attack, ramming a fist into the gut of a skinny assailant before spinning his blade and stabbing it through. "We need to escape!"

"They have no bows, it's dishonorable for them. Get into the open so we can form a screen!"

Torrhen, frozen in place, saw Hizdahr move. "Your Grace… follow me… I know a way out…"

The young dragon saw the Harpies coming and acted on instinct. He charged, sword slashing out and catching one militant in the gut. Intestines spilled onto the wooden deck as the man screamed like a terrified little girl. Torrhen punched the sword tip through the fallen Harpy's face before facing the other one.

Distracted from Torrhen's sudden appearance, his stab at Hizdahr only pierced the rich man's shoulder. Hizdahr let out a cry of pain as the two tumbled to the ground in a heap. The Harpy tried to scramble up but found his neck stabbed through by Torrhen's sword. "Get up!" he screeched at Hizdahr, practically yanking the shellshocked, bleeding former master to his feet.

But there was no coordination in the Harpies at this point. Most guards had been dealt with, and now they were systematically going after the defenseless civilians. Many rushed the dias only to be cut down by Daario and Barristan — some got through though. One charged at Missandei, grabbing the poor girl by her hair and started dragging her. "Get away from her!" screeched Daenerys, but a backhand to the face sent her sprawling.

Torrhen, a red-hot anger and determination filling his vision — was this the dragonsblood… the true dragonsblood? — bellowed at the top of his lungs. That was his mother! That was his surrogate aunt! He saw how helpless women were being attacked by the Harpies and he'd be damned if that would be Missandei's fate.

Almost out of the perimeter with his thrashing prize, stepping over a corpse of the Unsullied guard once manning the post, the Harpy was suddenly set upon by Torrhen — the lad still screaming. Thrusting his sword deep into the Harpy's gut. "Fuck you!" he cried, using every single horrible word he'd learned from the times he'd heard his Aunt Sansa curse his mother and father beyond the grave when she didn't think he was there. "Cocksucker!" He grabbed a dagger from his belt, plunging it over and over into the man's face through the mask. "You don't fucking touch her, you cunt! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

Pretty soon, his face was a bloody pulp of bone and brain matter.

"Torrhen!" He was suddenly yanked away. Ser Barristan's face looking down on him. "Leave him, he's dead! Come with me!" Blinking away the anger, Torrhen locked eyes with Missandei… she watched him with a grateful expression… well, as much as she could given the situation. Soon she was hugged by Dany, the entire group making their way to the center of the pit.

But the retreat was exploited by the thugs. Like jackals onto a wounded beast they charged, knives high to overwhelm the Queen's party as they pulled back. Torrhen shoved Missandei behind him as best he could, meeting the blows and thrusting. A Harpy screamed as he pierced their leg, but Torrhen didn't rest on his laurels. He fought side by side with Daario and Barristan, enmity forgotten in defending their Queen.

He still hated having to spill blood, but didn't have qualms about those he was facing. They were monsters… gods only knew what they would've done to Missandei. He wanted them dead. They deserved to die!

The attacks, which had been furious and fierce, then slackened. Someone, his head shrouded in a face-covering, had emerged with a short sword and stabbed and hacked from the rear. This allowed Torrhen and the others the opening to countercharge and overwhelm the Harpies. Barristan beheaded a man, Daario tackled one to the ground and slit his throat, and Torrhen stabbed upward, piercing just below the ribs into his chest.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Daario bellowed at the new man.

He simply shrugged. "Here to help…" It was a Westerosi accent. "Now let's go!"

Quickly, they followed the Queen onto open ground, where the remaining Unsullied could get into formation.

It became readily apparent that it wouldn't be enough.

"Form a circle! Tight in the middle!" yelled Daario, readying his arakh. Torrhen complied, staying close to his mother as Harpies poured through the gates. These weren't the brutal savages of before… most were, but they were joined by those wielding heavy weapons and others barking commands. Torrhen didn't speak Ghiscari or bastard Valyrian, but the tone was authoritative.

This was the slaver army. Their heavy hitters. Masks of glittering gold molded into that of pure malevolence.

The brash youngsters of the group charged immediately — the Unsullied cut them down, Ser Barristan decapitating two and Daario beheading another. Jorah handled the few that got through the line, one close enough to shower Dany's white dress with blood.

"Stay behind me, my Queen," Torrhen shouted, hands tight on the hilt of his sword.

"I'm sorry, Torrhen," he heard his mother say. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't think like that! We're gonna get out of this." He didn't believe his own words. Is this your plan? Sent back to save my mother and all that ends up happening is our death by the hands of these monsters? What a cruel joke.

A javelin stabbed into the dirt barely a few feet from Torrhen, sending him scrambling. Aye, doom was close on hand. He trembled, wishing he was with Lya… wishing that she could've met their mother and he their father. A tear ran down his eye without prompting. Kneeling by him, Missandei pulled Torrhen into her arms, murmuring words of comfort. Ones the poor boy never had growing up.

Over her shoulder, Torrhen's eyes met with Dany's. There was pain on her face too, an indescribable kind.

What miracle could save them now?

EEEEEEEEAAAAAAACCCCHHHHHHHH!

Suddenly, Torrhen knew. "Drogon…" he murmured. Looking up at his mother, the lad could've sworn he saw her smile.

Dany's breath hitched as her son swooped down from above. Drogon was like a harbinger of death, his black body diving straight to the biggest cluster of Harpies surrounding them. He roared at the top of his lungs as he shot out fireball after fireball at the attackers. They scattered like the wind, some even dropping their spears in their haste to get away. Not all, though. Those that did keep hold of their weapons waited until they were out of range of the fireballs before throwing them at the dragon. Most of them missed, but one well thrown spear soared true and struck her son deep in the thigh.

Drogon screeched as he crashed into the dirt and sand, his head and tail swinging madly in every direction as he tried to block out the pain. Numerous Harpies closed in around him, each one eager to slay her child and stop the would-be rescue. Still, Drogon wasn't just the largest of her three sons. He was also the strongest. He bellowed as he slashed his claws, slammed his tail, and scorched any Harpy that dared approach. Most he killed easily, but a small handful managed to dodge his attacks and thrust their spears into his tough hide. Each time they did, Drogon shrieked in agony. Dany's mind raced as she struggled to break free of the protective circle her people had formed around her. Her son was in danger! She had to help him!

Two Harpies that elected to stay in formation around her men took note how she was trying to slip past her defenders and pressed closer. Torrhen was the only one on her side with a sword who wasn't currently busy with his own battle against other Harpies, and quickly leapt in front of her. Her heart was pounding as she watched the boy struggle to fend off the two spearmen. His daily training sessions with Barristan and the Unsullied were definitely helping him as he held his own, but it was clear they were slowly overpowering him.

Her stomach dropped, terror flooding her senses. "Drogon, dracarys!" She shouted.

Upon her command, her son focused his fireballs at the Harpies on the verge of overpowering Torrhen, and within seconds they were all piles of ash circling Torrhen who was more or less unharmed, give or take a few minor cuts from the Harpies attacks and the edges of his clothes being slightly singed.

Even so, Drogon showed no sign of calming down. He roared and spat out fire in every direction, his rage blinding him to anything else. Not even the Harpies who managed to avoid the blazing inferno to stab their spears into his side could quell him, as a firm slam of his tail would drive them off. By this point, even a few Second Sons who'd been fighting a little too closely to Drogon were becoming slightly charred.

The queen's mind raced. What should she do? The only chance of calming Drogon down was if she ran out there and spoke to him while trying to pull out the spears. However, there was an entire mass of warriors between her and her son. If she were to break out of the protective circle her people had formed around her, could she run fast enough to avoid the remaining Harpies to reach Drogon before they reached her? She could calm him down, pull out the spears… but if the Harpies got to her first, there was no telling what Drogon would do. Perhaps it'd be better to order her men to clear a direct path to her son so as—

"Shut the fuck up! No wonder everyone thinks you're a monster, acting like that!"

Time came to a halt. Everyone in the arena — enemy or ally, master or freedman — froze. The entire battle just… stopped right then and there. For one long, agonizing second, it was so still even the wind died…

A thundering roar broke the silence, and all at once everyone whipped around. Drogon's red eyes were wild with rage as he snarled under his breath, staring Torrhen down. Smoke and embers trailed from his jaws, preparing to roast the little boy where he stood. Yet unlike the other Harpies who were hastily backing away from the enraged dragon, Torrhen firmly stood his ground. He wasn't the slightest bit afraid of her son. No… he stayed less that a few feet away from Drogon's mouth, glaring hotly at the black dragon with his arms folded across his chest.

Dany could only stare, her mind wiped blank. No… No, no, no. Not now. Torrhen… he had a bad temper, but surely he wasn't so stupid as to let it overpower his senses now of all times! He was not about to snap and yell at the wildest of her sons when he was clearly beyond reason right now! Was he suicidal?! What was he—?!

"Aye, you heard me right!" Torrhen snapped, his tone twice as deadly. "I told you to fucking shut up! Need me to say it again?!"

Drogon roared, infuriated. He was so loud this time that many Harpies and even some of the Second Sons automatically dropped their weapons to slam their hands over their ears. The force of it was enough to make Torrhen's clothes and hair whip out in the wind, but Torrhen still wasn't intimidated and stood his ground.

"What?! You do?! Fine! Shut the—!"

"Torrhen!" Dany shrieked, finally returning to her senses. "Torrhen, get back!"

Ignoring the protests of her councilors and guards, she shoved her way past them and darted straight to the boy. None of the Harpies dared to stop her. They were too dumbstruck… or perhaps amused… by what they were witnessing, while the smarter ones sought to use the respite to clear the wounded and get reinforcements with heavy weapons — Drogon having done a number on them.

Seizing his upper arm, she hastily dragged him back. "Drogon's not like my other sons, Torrhen! He only listens to me! So you mustn't—!"

He shook her off without so much as a glance. "You really are stupider than stupid when it comes to dragons, aren't you?" He hissed.

"What?"

"Shut up and stand back! You obviously never taught Drogon manners, so leave this to me!"

Rudeness aside, Dany wanted more than anything to smack him and drag him back to the others, to safety. While he was doing a better job these days trying to hold his tongue thanks to Barristan's tutelage, it was clear he needed additional reinforcement to drill home the concept of being polite and respectful to people even when angry. She'd believed before that it wasn't her place to overly discipline Torrhen since he was Barristan's squire, but perhaps that'd been a mistake. She opened her mouth to snap at him to get back, but he was already sweeping past her and stomping up closer to Drogon, fire blazing in his gaze.

"Stand down," he demanded.

Drogon was miffed at the command, and swelled up in fury. Reeling back his head, he bellowed out a powerful roar, so loud in fact that this time almost everyone in the arena — fighting ring and in the stands alike — dropped their weapons and were forced to slam their hands over their ears. No one cared anymore who was a Harpy, an innocent bystander, or part of her forces. All attention was focused solely on the stupid little boy who was daring to challenge her dragon.

Then — to everyone's bafflement — Torrhen wordlessly yelled back at Drogon at the top of his lungs.

Dany jerked, stunned. A quick glance over her shoulder at the rest of her councilors confirmed they were as bewildered as she was. Even Drogon was puzzled, as he immediately stopped roaring and cocked in his head at the boy, blinking repeatedly. What in the world…?

When Torrhen finally stopped, he spared only a moment to catch his breath before fixing her son with another heated look. "See what a waste of time that was? Yelling like that?" He spat. "Pointless. Completely pointless. That's what you sound like when you roar over nothing."

Drogon growled, his fangs flashing dangerously.

"Don't give me that look! Shut up and sit down!"

He snarled twice as loud, more embers trailing from his jaws—

Smack!

"You wanna burn me?! Go ahead! But first you shut up and sit down! Now!"

Dany wanted to scream at Torrhen at the top of her lungs to run and not stop, but she was too shocked to find her words. Torrhen wasn't just being stupid anymore. He truly was trying to kill himself. He — He just slapped her son across the snout… What form of logic was going through that boy's head that would make him think it was okay to slap a dragon? Why was her tongue suddenly swelling up? She had to do something, quick! Before Drogon—

Drogon rumbled in annoyance, but still he slowly calmed himself from his defensive stance and sunk down in front of Torrhen, his red eyes never daring to break away from the boy.

Torrhen nodded in approval, though kept his glare carefully fixed on his face. "Good. Not so hard, was it? You gonna behave now?"

He growled before begrudgingly snorting in compliance.

His gaze slowly softened. "Good. That's good. I've been wanting to meet you for a while now, Drogon, and the last thing I wanted was to yell at you while introducing myself."

Dany stared, her fear fading away. Drogon was listening to Torrhen… The stubbornest and most ill-tempered of her sons was doing as the boy ordered… Was this really happening right now? Could she simply be dreaming all this? She pinched her arm to be sure. The twinge of pain confirmed it for her. This was real. It was an impossible sight, but it was really happening. How…?

Torrhen didn't care about her disbelief, though. If anything, he'd seemingly forgotten he had an audience as he stepped closer to the black dragon, eying him curiously. "I haven't introduced myself yet, have I, Drogon? I'm Torrhen, Torrhen Snow. And back there's Shadow, my direwolf brother."

The dark wolf took the liberty of snapping his jaws one last time for good measure at a Harpy who'd been too frozen in shock to realize how close he still was to Torrhen's friend. The man cried out as Shadow darted up to his master, his muzzle stained with blood. Still, Torrhen absentmindedly patted Shadow as he gazed at Drogon, still rather wonderstruck.

"It's nice to meet you, Drogon. Like I said, I've been wanting to meet you for some time. You're Queen Daenerys' third dragon, after all, and she's already introduced me to Rhaegal and Viserion."

Drogon's eyes flicked to her briefly before returning to Torrhen, and he rumbled in confusion.

"Aye, that's right. Your mother introduced me to your brothers. They're both grumpy from being locked in the catacombs for awhile, but they're okay. Not nearly as bad-tempered as you are, anyway."

Her son half-snorted, half-huffed, as though torn between being either offended by Torrhen's remark or amused.

"It's a shame Lyaella and Sōnar aren't here right now. You'd like them," Torrhen continued. "Lyaella's my sister. My twin sister. If she were here, you probably wouldn't be acting so distrustful and roaring over nothing."

His red eyes blinked, narrowing suspiciously.

"What, you don't believe me?"

Drogon rumbled, cocking his head slightly.

"Oh, you don't understand! I see…"

As Torrhen nodded sagely to himself at his profound realization, Dany spared another half-second glance back to her councilors. Her mind was too jumbled to think clearly and she desperately needed their input on what she should be thinking about this. Sadly, it appeared her advisors were too flabbergasted themselves to take notice. And not just them. Everyone in the arena had their full and undivided attention fixated solely on Torrhen and Drogon.

"Well, it's simple really. If she were here, Sōnar would be here, too. And you'd trust them immediately because it'd be the first time you met a dragon that wasn't one of your brothers."

Drogon snarled and reeled back, disbelieving. Dany's breath hitched—

"Oi! Enough of that!" Torrhen snapped, his tone cutting again. "I'm not lying!"

Drogon still kept snarling.

Already deprived of most of their heavy infantry — the remaining fighters armed with knives or short swords that would be useless on a dragon — they pulled back to the exits in defensive screens, watching this with interest.

"It's the truth, I swear. Sōnar's our dragon sister. We hatched her from her egg years ago. And we were able to 'cause me and Lya are Targaryen bastards."

He growled even louder, still disbelieving.

Torrhen huffed, now becoming frustrated himself. "What, don't tell me you're as skeptical as your mother is," he grumbled. "She doesn't wanna believe me either. She apparently likes being all alone and doesn't want to open up to people, far as I can tell."

She flinched, swallowing thickly. Had she been giving Torrhen that impression all this time? Oh, dear…

"I'm telling you the truth. Me and Lyaella really are Targaryen bastards, and Sōnar's our dragon sister. I don't know where they are right now, but they're real! I wanna think of you as our dragon brother, Drogon, but you've gotta be nice first. Keep acting like a wild beast, and I'll have to treat you like one. Okay?"

He slowly stretched out his hand, reaching out towards Drogon's snout. Drogon turned his head away a bit, growling lowly under his breath. Still, Torrhen didn't flinch or move away. He just kept standing there, waiting for Drogon to cross that final gap on his own…

Dany didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe. Or think. Should she lose her focus for even a second, she could miss this.

Seconds trailed by, each one agonizingly longer than the last. Then finally, Drogon closed his eyes and gently pressed his snout against Torrhen's palm.

The world could have ended right then and Dany wouldn't have noticed. There was nothing on earth that could have forced her to tear her eyes away from Torrhen and her dragon son. Drogon… he was letting Torrhen pet him. Was this real? Should she pinch herself again to make sure she wasn't dreaming?

Torrhen chuckled, casually moving closer to where the spears were embedded in his side under the pretense of stroking his neck. "There, see? Not so bad is it, being nice? You're a good dragon, aren't you?" Drogon rumbled, flattered. "Then can you be nice to me for one more minute? I'm gonna try yanking these out, but it might hurt a little. Just don't go killing everyone when I do, 'kay?"

Drogon narrowed his eyes, but grunted an affirmative. As Torrhen tugged out the various spears from his thigh, Dany's mind raced with realizations. Rhaegal and Viserion were her good sons, her friendly sons. If Torrhen had been petting either of them right now, that would be one thing. They were kinder to others and generally wouldn't attack unless provoked first or if she commanded it. But Drogon was another story. From the time he first hatched, he never listened to anyone except her, let alone allow others to pet him. Yet Torrhen wasn't just patting and stroking him to keep him calm as he pulled out the spears, he'd calmed Drogon down from a moment of blinding rage all on his own. He'd… He'd even slapped her son to snap him out of his fury! Not even she'd ever tempted fate like that. Yet Torrhen not only did it, he made Drogon listen and respect him with only minimal resistance from her son.

Which meant Torrhen had been telling the truth all along.

He might be a bastard Snow who'd grown up in the North, but he truly was related to her. He really was a bastard of House Targaryen.

The thought had scarcely left her mind before a Harpy near him — seeing his chance — dashed forward and slashed away at his shoulder as he pulled out another spear. Torrhen yelped in pain at the unexpected attack and stumbled against Drogon, but Drogon roared, enraged by the Harpy's action. Twisting around to glare at the attacker, Drogon nudged Torrhen out of the way with his snout and then promptly roasted the Harpy alive before he could run away.

As the Harpy screamed, everyone else in the arena jolted back to attention. Reinforcements had arrived, and the Harpies blocked off the remaining exits and slaughtered anyone they came across. Dany did her best to dodge her protectors and instead reach Torrhen. Despite his injury, Torrhen did his best to keep reaching up and pulling out spears from Drogon's thigh.

Finally free from the protective ring her guards had formed around her, Dany rushed straight to her son and the little boy. "Torrhen! Torrhen, stop!" She cried, gently taking his arm as he tried to reach up and pull out another spear. "You're hurt! Please, stay back and find something to bind your shoulder with!" All she could think of was him being the last of House Targaryen. Without him… we have no future! He needs to be safe!

"L-Let go!" He groaned, his face twisting in pain as he tugged away and kept trying to pull out the spears. "I'll — I'll be f-fine! It's Drogon who needs h-help!"

Dany ignored his protests, but did join him in pulling out the spears. Her son needed those out if he was to have any chance at all in helping them. As soon as they were all free, Drogon was back on the defensive again, lashing out with his tail and claws whenever a Harpy dared get too close to herself or Torrhen. There was caution from some, but an almost suicidal boldness in others as they continued to charge straight at the beast. Many were roasted, but those that remained were smarter in trying to avoid Drogon's attacks... If they could just get close enough to take her or Torrhen down with them...

That's when it hit her. There were still some Harpies attacking the innocents in the stands and her comrades behind her, but more and more Harpies were slowly abandoning their current fights to join the throng of masked men trying to reach her and Torrhen. She didn't know whether or not Torrhen had been one of their targets before his moment of dragon taming with Drogon, but it was clear they now considered him to be one after that demonstration. She and Torrhen had to get out of here. Her people were strong, but there were simply too many enemies right now for them all to fight and still come out alive when all was said and done. If she and Torrhen were to escape from the arena on their own though, the riot would slowly dispense. They'd both be safe, and so would her comrades and the people of Meereen.

Luckily, the best escape plan for her and Torrhen was right in front of them. Drogon had finally returned to her after being missing for so long. More importantly, he'd grown significantly since his short visit in the weeks leading up to the day she first met young Torrhen Snow. He still wasn't anywhere near the size of the great Balerion the Dread, but he had to be at least as big as an elephant now. He was more than big enough to fly with a rider. Or in this case, two riders.

Tugging Torrhen up against her as he was swaying a bit from all the blood loss, she glanced back at Drogon over her shoulder. "Obūljagon ilagon, Drōgon. Kostilus," she murmured.

Whacking away one last Harpy with his tail, Drogon obeyed and bent down on all fours as she requested. Patting him appreciatively, Dany nudged Torrhen to make him look up. "Hurry, climb on!"

Torrhen was quickly paling, but he ignored her to try reaching Shadow. In all the confusion of the battle raging on once more, his direwolf had been separated from him again and was clawing and ripping into other Harpies a few yards away. Dany quickly seized his wrist to keep him from wandering off.

"Torrhen, come on!"

"N-No! Let me go! I… I can't leave Shadow! S-Shadow!" he cried, calling out to his pal. "Come… Come here, b-bud! We've… We've gotta…!"

Torrhen strength sapped out of him right then and he lost his balance. Were it not for how she was holding him up, Dany was certain he would have tumbled all the way to the ground. He was losing way too much blood. Dany wasn't a medic, but so long as she and Torrhen got up in the air now, she could at least bind his wound so there wouldn't be any more blood loss. There was no time to wait. They had to go now.

Ignoring his mumbling protests, she dragged him closer and literally shoved him on top of Drogon's back first before climbing on behind him. Sparing one last look of farewell at her stunned allies, she wrapped her arms around Torrhen's form to keep hold of him and reached around him to grasp onto Drogon's neck.

"Sōvegon," she whispered. Fly.

Torrhen immediately struggled to get out of her grip and slide down, but she kept firm hold of him as her dragon son spread his wings and flew up high in the air. Within seconds they were nearly a hundred feet off the ground and still rising higher and higher. Dany had no idea which way Drogon was taking them, but wherever they went surely had to be better than here. So long as they didn't land in the middle of another battle with hundreds of people trying to kill them all over again, it didn't really matter. All that mattered right now was escaping with their lives.

Well, that and binding up Torrhen's wound, of course. Ripping off a strip of fabric from the skirt of her torn and dirty dress, she did her best to tie it tightly around the boy's body while still holding onto her son. Torrhen was too weak to pay much mind to her actions, but from the little she could understand from his mindless mumbling, he wasn't all that happy.

"N-No… No, go back… C-Can't… leave…"

"It's all right, Torrhen. We'll be back in Meereen soon. Just wait until things calm down."

"No… No, can't leave… Can't l-leave him…"

"It's okay. I promise you, it's all okay."

"…gar," he whispered, his eyes drooping shut. "Āno… Ānogar…"

And with that he finally gave into his exhaustion and passed out.

Dany blinked repeatedly, but held onto Drogon tightly with one hand and Torrhen with the other. Did Missandei teach him that High Valyrian word? Why? It wasn't like the word 'blood' popped up in normal conversations every day…

Still, there was no reason to focus on that right now. She had to direct Drogon out of the city to safety. And with that thought in mind, she focused back on the task at hand and started relaying orders for her son to dodge the various spears being hurled in the air by the merciless Harpies.

Longclaw 1-6:

So Dany has made her realization. Torrhen is blood of her blood. That should make things much better going forward… apart from being off in the wilderness and all that, lol.

Hope y'all liked Torrhen in this chapter. He's coming a long way, defending Dany and Missandei from the Harpies like a boss.